


bring me to life

by kohee



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: F/M, Ghosts, Horror, Romance, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 06:22:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8317222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kohee/pseuds/kohee
Summary: First there's bad weather, and then there's a creepy house, and then there's involuntary possession and ghosts.This can't end well...can it?





	

**Author's Note:**

> one-shot; _bring me to life_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 3298 words  
> note: Halloween Barson fic for barsonaddict.

 “Damnit.” Liv curses as the car stalls to a stop, the engine sputtering.

Barba sighs and looks up from his phone. “Did you forget to fill the tank again, Liv?”

She unbuckles her seatbelt, and looks to the side of the driver’s seat for an umbrella. “Shut up, Barba. It only happened _once_ in the last four years, you don’t have to keep reminding me of it. And _no_ , it’s not the petrol. I don’t know what’s wrong; I’m just going to have to check.”

He grabs the umbrella she is holding and shrugs out of his suit jacket, tossing it onto the backseat. “I’ll do it.”

“ _You_? I’m surprised you know that there are other uses for a car besides Uber.”

He throws her a look, rolling up his sleeves. “I grew up in _el barrio_ , I know my way around car engines, believe it or not. Besides, I’m not about to let a woman go out in the rain while I sit in the car.”

“How chivalrous.”

“Always,” he drawls, and opens the umbrella, disappearing into the pouring rain. A moment later, the car bonnet pops up.

Liv sits in the car, rubbing her hands together as she takes out her phone. They’re about two hours away from New York, and given the weather and the misbehaviour of her car, she thinks it might be wise if she starts looking for a hotel or some place to stay for the night. Before that, she gives Lucy a call, explaining the situation and requesting that she stays with Noah for the night.

A sharp rap sounds on her window, and she looks up, unwinding the window.

“It’s the battery,” he yells, in order to be heard over the wind and rain. “Do you have cables in your car?”

She nods. “It’s in the boot,” she answers, pulling the lever to open up the boot.

He gives her a thumbs up sign, and Liv  reaches for another umbrella on the backseat, opening it up and joining Barba in the rain.

“You need someone to hold the umbrella over your head!” She shouts, and he nods, briskly clipping the cables together. It takes him just a several minutes, and he gestures for her to try starting the car.

Liv slides back into the driver’s seat, and turns the key, and the engine coughs into life. Barba shuts the bonnet, and gets into the car quickly.

He’s wet, his shirt half soaked through, and his hair plasters to his forehead. She doesn’t suppose she looks any better either.

“I don’t think it’ll hold all the way back to New York. We need to stop somewhere for the night,” he says, trying to dry himself with tissues from the tissue box.

“There’s a motel about twenty minutes away,” she says, as she starts driving.

Barba grimaces. “A motel?”

“Sorry, Hilton doesn’t have a branch around here. Besides, didn’t you say you grow up in _el barrio?_ I’m sure you can slum it for a night, Barba.”

“Oh, very funny, Liv.”

She chortles, and continues driving, concentrating on the road. The rain is really coming down hard and fast, and she prays fervently that her car will behave until they find shelter.

“Stop!” Barba says suddenly, looking towards his right. “There’s a lodging of some sort on your right.”

She pulls to a stop, and peers through the rain. Sure enough, her car is parked in front of a two-storey brick house, and there’s a painted sign out at the front, proclaiming it to be a “Guesthouse with rooms available”. She looks at her phone, and frowns. “Funny, this didn’t show up when I was searching just now. And it’s still not on the map.”

Barba’s already grabbing his briefcase. “Not everything is on Google Maps, Liv. Since we’re already in front of a guesthouse, I propose we get in, and get out of these wet clothes before we catch pneumonia.”

She rolls her eyes as his theatrics, but she complies, parking the car properly. They both get out, and hurry to the front door. There’s no doorbell, only a heavy brass knocker. He lifts it and knocks three times, and then the door opens, to reveal a young woman in a long black dress and light blonde hair. Her hair is so light, that it’s almost white.

“Oh, you poor dears!” She exclaims. “You’re all wet! Please, come in.”

Barba and Liv steps into the house, and she shuts the door behind them. The sound of the rain and wind lessens considerably, and they look around them. The house is bigger than it looks from the outside, but it is rather dark.

“It’s been quite a while since I have guests,” the woman says. She looks at them, with a scrutinising air, and she smiles. “Yes, and you’re both lovely. You’ll do nicely.”

Her words are strange, and it makes Barba feel slightly uncomfortable. He notices that her eyes are black, very black, and they stand out starkly on her pale face and against her blonde hair.

“Come, let us go to the living room, and you can write in the guestbook.”

As they head towards the living room, she introduces herself. “I’m Regina, and I run this guesthouse, with my husband, James. You’ll meet him later.” She hands them a leather ledger, and a pen, and Barba looks down at it.

The last entry was almost two years ago.

Regina’s eyes follow his, and she gives a little smile. “Like I said, it’s been a while since my last guests.”

He looks at Liv, and she lifts her shoulder in a small, imperceptible shrug. He feels a bit disconcerted, but the weather is terrible, and it’s a roof over their heads. He scribbles his name, and writes Liv’s name underneath his own.

She takes back the ledger, and reads it. “You’re not married?”

Barba coughs. “No, we’re not. We’re colleagues.”

“That is unfortunate. You make such a beautiful couple.”

Liv feels herself flushing, as she looks at Barba. Their eyes met, and he looks away quickly, clearing his throat. “I don’t want to seem impolite, but we’re cold, and wet, and I would prefer that we do not engage in small talk.”

Regina smiles. “So it’ll be separate rooms, then, Mr. Barba and Ms. Benson?”

“Yes, please,” he says, standing up and taking out his wallet. She reaches out, and touches his hand, and he jumps, drawing his hand back with a start.

Her fingers are cold, _ice_ cold.

She doesn’t acknowledge his rather rude reaction, but instead tells them that there’s no need to worry about payment now, as she prefers for them to settle it when they leave.

* * *

The stairs creak as they head upstairs.

The house seems well-maintained and clean, even if the furniture and furnishings look dated and old fashioned. But Barba finds it hard to shake the feeling of uneasiness that’s gradually building within him. Looking at Liv’s rather taut expression as she walks beside him, he has an inkling that perhaps she feels the same.

Their host may seem a bit strange, and a bit inappropriate, but still, it’s only one night.

Regina opens the first door they come across, to reveal a small room, simply furnished with a bed, a dresser and an armchair.

“Mr. Barba.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, entering the room and putting his briefcase on the armchair.

“Ms. Benson, I’ll show you to your room.”

She nods, and just before they continue on, Liv calls out. “Barba, I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Before he can answer, his door bangs shut, and he finds himself staring at the closed door. He tells himself that it’s the draft, or the wind, but he could’ve sworn he saw Regina’s hand on the doorknob.

* * *

The rain has stopped, and the house is eerily quiet. Barba gets up from the armchair, closing his casefile. He feels his clothes – his shirt and pants are nearly dry, and his undershirt is almost completely dry. He shrugs off the blanket he had draped over himself whilst waiting for his clothes to dry, and pulls his undershirt over his head, grateful that his boxers remained dry.

He hopes Liv is all right in the next room, or whichever room she’s in.

On a whim, he grabs his phone and taps on her name. She answers after two rings.

“Barba?”

“Liv, is everything okay with you?”

“Yeah, I’m just about to go to sleep.”

“All right, good night, then.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He sits down on the bed and flips the switch of the bedside lamp, lying down and pulling the covers over himself. He closes his eyes, glad to know that when he wakes up, he will be on his way back to New York and he will forget about this strange, rainy night.

* * *

Barba wakes up with a start, sitting up on his bed. He can hear knocking, incessant knocking, and it seems to be coming from the direction of his door. A quick glance at his phone tells him that it’s four o’clock in the morning.

And it has started to rain again.

He swings his legs over the side of the bed, getting up and walking to the door. The knocks sound again – someone is _definitely_ knocking on his door. He hesitates, and then he opens the door, only to see Liv leaning against the doorframe.

She’s dressed in a tank top and panties, and she’s smiling at him, a slow, seductive smile.

He stares at her, confused.

“Liv, what the hell?”

She takes advantage of his bewilderment and pushes him into the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

“Liv, what…”

She cuts him off by shoving him up against the wall, and then she presses her lips against his. Her mouth is hot and demanding, and he is frankly too confused to kiss her back.

“Stop,” he murmurs against her lips, and mustering his strength, he pushes her away, holding her by the shoulders.

She looks at him, her eyes wild and her hair tangled, and inexplicably, he feels a shiver running down his spine.

“Olivia Benson, what the fuck are you doing?” He asks, his tone bellying a calmness that he does not feel. He has no idea what is going on right now, but he is not going to take advantage of her.

“Don’t you want me, Barba?” She whispers, taking a step closer and pressing herself against him, slipping her bare leg between his. She slides her hand to the back of his neck and raises her lips to his, kissing him again, and almost against his will, he finds himself responding.

It’s like a dam has burst forth; of course he wants her. He had wanted her for as long as he could remember, but he never allows himself to dwell on it, to think about it, because she’s his best friend.

They stumble towards his bed, and he lands on it, her on top of him. She straddles him, gripping him with her thighs, and she leans down, about to kiss him, when he sees her eyes.

They’re black.

 _Black¸_ not brown.

Something freezes within him.

He sits up suddenly, pushing her back, catching her off guard. He cups her face in his hands, studying her face intently.

It’s Liv’s face, her nose, her lips, that tousled brown hair, but those eyes.

Those eyes are not hers.

It’s crazy, it’s illogical, and it doesn’t make any fucking sense, but Barba has never been so sure of anything in his life.

The woman in front of him is not Olivia. Not _his_ Olivia.

His tone is calm despite the terror slowly building within him. “Who the fuck are you?”

She watches him warily, and then her face crumples as she dissolves into laughter, a high pitched, hollow sound.

When she speaks, the voice is not Liv’s. Her eyes mock him as she shakes her head. “This is the quickest anyone has ever seen through my façade. You’re an utter fool, though. It could’ve been so much easier.”

Barba stands up and backs away from the bed, staring at the her. “Who the fuck are you,” he repeats, “and what have you done with Liv?”

The woman stands up, stretching. “You can have your precious _Liv_ back. I have to commend her – she put up a tremendous fight.”

With those words, he sees a misty apparition beside her, and then Liv crumples into a heap on the floor.

“Liv!” He rushes forward, dropping to his knees and cradling her against him. Her eyes are closed, but she’s breathing, slowly and evenly.

Barba raises his eyes, and sees that the apparition has taken form. Regina looks at him demurely, a twisted smile on her face.

A cold feeling creeps over him. “You’re dead.”

She shrugs. “That I am.”

“I don’t believe in ghosts,” he says, almost to himself.

“You don’t have to believe in ghosts,” she says, her tone matter-of-fact. “But rest assure, we exist. And some of us need the living to keep on existing. My husband, James, is one very good example.”

She glares at him now, her eyes flashing. “You may be one of the quickest, but you’re also one of the stupidest. You should’ve taken what I made her offer, from the first moment at the door. But no, you had to act all _honourable_.”

She waves her hand, and suddenly, he feels pain slicing through his head. Grimacing, he presses one hand to his head, and struggles to keep his other arm around Liv.

“You’re the one I want, you know. I could’ve spared her, but eh, what the hell. The more, the merrier,” she cackles, and she’s about to wave her other hand when it stops in mid-air.

“Stop it, Regina.” A new male voice penetrates the room.

Barba blinks through the pain, looking up. He’s not even shocked by the second figure slowly taking shape next to Regina – a man – and he’s gripping her hand.

She turns around to face him. “I’m doing this for you, James.”

“I want you to stop doing this for me. I told you. Again and again. You need to let me go. You’ve kept me here long enough against my will.”

She shakes her head, frustrated. “Why are you saying this?”

Liv stirs in his arms, and Barba looks down at her. She opens her eyes, and he’s relieved to see that they’re brown. She focuses on him, and suddenly, panic descends upon her face. “Barba, we have to go. We have to…”

Regina waves her free hand, and suddenly, they find themselves immobile. Barba struggles, but he can’t move his legs, and neither can Liv. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Regina, please.”

“I don’t understand you!” She snaps. “You know what will happen if I don’t do this. Tonight is the last night, you know it. And he…” she gestures to Barba. “He was sent here. _Sent_. It’s meant to be.”

The ghost called James takes a step closer to Barba and Liv. He looks at them for a long moment, and then he turns to her.

“It’s not meant to be. You cannot use him. He’s bound to her.”

Regina swivels to look at them on the floor. “No. _No_. They’re not married.”

“That’s irrelevant. He loves her,” James says simply. “He really loves her.”

Liv’s eyes widened at those words, and her gaze flits towards Barba, but he casts his eyes downward, not looking at her.

Regina’s lips twist into a snarl. “Then I’ll just kill them both, for what it’s worth.”

James steps in front of them, shielding them. “You will not touch them. Let them go, Regina. Let _me_ go.”

“I can’t!” She shrieks. “Don’t you understand? I can’t let you go. You want me to let them go because he loves her. But I love _you_.”

He smiles sadly. “You don’t love me. You stopped loving me a long time ago. You just don’t want to be alone, because you can’t go where I’m going.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you saying that you want to leave me?”

“I’m saying that we have to let whatever is to happen, happen. You cannot keep doing this. There are consequences.”

“Consequences be damned!” She swerves towards Barba, and grabs him by the throat. “I’ll take him. I’ll take him, and you can leave, James, you can leave me, and I’ll have him. Or her. Or both of them. I won’t be alone. I refuse to be.”

“Barba!” Liv cries, struggling to get up, but she still isn’t able to move.

“I’ll break the bond,” she says determinedly, fixing her eyes upon Barba. “What if I tell you, Mr. Barba, that you are free to go if I can have Ms. Benson?”

He looks at the ghost, her cruel black eyes, and then he looks at Liv, who is trembling with terror, and then he thinks of a little boy with curly brown hair, a little boy who needs his mother. He thinks about her, and how much she loves her son, and how much she needs him, and he thinks about what James had said.

He loves her. He really loves her.

“Then I’ll tell you, you can’t have her. You can keep me here with you, you miserable bitch, but keep your word and let her go.”

Liv shakes her head. “No! You don’t know what you’re saying…”

She’s cut off by Regina’s raging howl, and the room starts spinning, furniture shaking and pictures rattling.

James drifts forward, and pins his wife’s arms down. “Go!” he orders, looking at Barba and Liv. “She had lost. She took the gamble with you, and she lost. You have to go. Now.”

Barba moves his legs, and he grabs Liv by the arms, and together, they stumble out of the room, as Regina’s screams increase in volume. They ran out of the house together, and ran towards Liv’s car as fast as their shaky legs could carry them. Barba yanks the door open to the driver’s seat, pushes her in, towards the passenger seat, and then he throws the car into gear, and speeds off.

* * *

They’ve been driving in silence for about twenty minutes, still shaky, still scared. Barba takes his suit jacket from the backseat and drapes it over Liv, and she gratefully pulls it around her, aware that she’s wearing minimal clothing.

They continue driving, and then they see a gas station up ahead, and he breaks the silence. “We have to get the battery changed, so we can get back to New York. I’ll make up a story about being robbed to explain the way we’re dressed,” he says wryly.

She nods, her brain still in partial shock, trying to process what had happened in that house they left behind.

It was all so impossible, so absurd, but yet, it had happened. She couldn’t explain it. She isn’t sure she wants to explain it.

But they’re still here, and they’re safe.

Before he gets out of the car, she grabs him, and hugs him tightly.

* * *

They make a promise to each other that they will tell no one – not that anyone would believe them. It’s probably for their own sake that they’re keeping this secret, that way, no one would ever cart them off for psychiatric evaluation.

She doesn’t want to speak of it again, ever, and neither does he.

But there is one thing that she wants to ask.

“Do you really love me?”

He takes her hand, and traces his thumb over her knuckles, wondering why she still feels the need to ask this question. She already knows his answer, anyway.

“I do. I really love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I tried to write something based on barsonaddict’s original prompt as tagged on tumblr, but the muse isn’t working that way.  
> 2\. I…don’t know what I eventually ended up writing either. I call it a Halloween fic because there were ghosts.  
> 3\. I intentionally left the ghosts vague because I can’t really write ghosts.  
> 4\. Totally shutting up now.


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